


Operation: Papercut

by tannne



Category: Spy (2015)
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Explicit Language, Gen, I Tried, Undercover Missions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:01:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28255860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tannne/pseuds/tannne
Summary: Susan, Bradley and Rick went undercover as professors at a university because the head librarian was suspected to be a drug lord. It was just weird that they couldn't find any evidence supporting this intel. Oh, and their students really should know better than to gossip about their professors. Especially about Susan Cooper.
Relationships: Bradley Fine/Rick Ford
Comments: 10
Kudos: 12
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	Operation: Papercut

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SummerRed](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerRed/gifts).



“Sook! Hey Sook, wait up a moment,” called Fine. Turning around, Susan saw Bradley Fine alias Brendon Wright wave his way through the students, who were clogging the university’s hallway. Slowing down, she waited for Bradley to catch up and tried not to grimace at the thought of her latest undercover identity. Sookie Parker, two times divorcée with a passion for soap carving and British literature professor at George Washington University. The soap carving was not going well. At all. Her latest attempt looked like a dog created by Dr. Frankenstein. Anyway, who came up with those weird cover identities? And more importantly, what had she done to them to be punished like this? An arm dropping over her shoulder stopped her complain– er mussing.

“Sookie, my dear, having a good day, so far?” Fine grinned at her, clearly contend with his lot. And really, why shouldn’t he be? He was after all Brendon Wright, a well-off bachelor with a penchant for classic cars and linguistics professor. Just once she would like to be something like a sophisticated, rich widow. Sighing, Susan attempted a shrug, then settled on waving her hand in a so-so gesture once Fine’s arm proofed to be too heavy for the shrug. “Eh, could be worse, I guess. At least half of my students did their assigned reading for today’s class, so there’s that. How are you holding up, Brendon?”

“Oh well. You know, my students don’t know the difference between an adjective and an adverb,” Fine’s smile wavered for a second before it settled more firmly on his face, “but it’s fine, really. It’s not like they really need to know the difference, do they?” Susan caught Fine’s eye and, oh wow, yep, they were a bit widened in a slightly panicky kind of way. Maybe she should be glad that she was teaching one course on Victorian novels, the only literature course she had taken at college. A little awkwardly, Susan reached up and patted the hand on her shoulder consolingly.

“I’m sure you’re doing quite well.” Lowering her voice slightly, she continued. “And as long as they use it correctly while speaking, it doesn’t matter that they don’t know how to identify them or the theory behind it, right?”

“Yes, absolutely. I’ll just design the final exam not to include that topic. Thanks, Sook.” He squeezed her shoulder gently. “Actually, I came over for another reason. Do you have any plans for tomorrow evening?” At Susan’s snort, he beamed at her. “Perfect. You’re invited to dinner. Come over at seven, will you?”

“Ah, you’re cooking class is tonight, isn’t it?” They arrived at the door to Susan’s office, ignoring the student’s milling around them.

“Yes, and I want to show off what we’ll be learning tonight. So you’re coming over tomorrow.” Fine’s firm tone didn’t leave any room to disagree with him, so she nodded obediently and accepted her fate gracefully, which earned her a soft smile. “Great! See you then, Sook.” And with a jaunty wave Fine hurried away, if Susan had to guess, to Ford’s office. Snorting, she unlocked her office and stepped inside.

Poor Ford. Another of Fine’s attempts at cooking dinner. He must have a stomach made of steel to put up with those. Well, that was the price you paid for love, wasn’t it? You had to deal with all the little quirks and peculiarities of your partner, no matter how endearing or annoying they were. And while Bradley Fine was many things, a good cook wasn’t one of them. Susan still wondered why he had volunteered for the cooking classes, when Elaine had briefed them on the social activities of their suspect. But then, Ford had gotten that manic gleam in his eyes when he had heard of the knitting circle, so she had wisely refrained from offering to take them and instead settled for the book club. To each their own. There were worse things than discussing the latest thriller.

The dinner invitation would at least give them the opportunity to discuss their case undisturbed. And what a strange case it was. There had been an increase in drug distribution into Canada. The origin of which seemed to be the university since drug related incidents had notably increased there. The CIA had received intel from an informer confirming their suspicions and naming the head librarian as the drug ring’s leader. So far, so good. But that was where things had become weird. Supposedly the drug leader was 63 years old Rosemary Grant, widowed, two children and five grandchildren, member of the university’s staff knitting circle and book club and instructor of a weekly vegetarian cooking class. Not your typical drug lord or lady, at all. So far, their investigation hadn’t turned up anything. Rosemary seemed like a lovely old lady, who didn’t seem to have time for running a drug ring considering how busy her social life was. Maybe Ford had found out something at yesterday’s knitting circle? Or to be correct, Richard Wilson, English literature with emphasis on writing professor, Ford’s cover for this mission, had found out something.

Shaking her head at her speculations, Susan stopped worrying about it and instead prepared herself as well as she could for her immediate problem: Office hours. How regular professors put up with answering the student’s questions and managed to actually give them good advice was a mystery to her. Squaring her shoulders and hoping her smile didn’t appear as forced as she felt it did, Susan looked at the door, which was just opening after being knocked on. 

***

“So, you didn’t find any evidence either?” asked Susan, leaning back in her chair and feeling slightly too full. They had just finished an excellent chocolate cake, baked, surprisingly by Ford. Truth to be told, after Fine’s slightly too crunchy risotto, the cake had been a welcome distraction.

Ford shook his head. “Nah, nothing suspicious going on there. I tell ya, a bunch little old grannies who are too invested in knitting. That’s it.” He waved his pastry fork around as if to show how baffling he found this. “Though they do get quite upset about minor quality wool. Or if the batch numbers of their yarn don’t match.”

“Well, there goes that hope.” Propping her chin on her hand, Susan sighed. “Same with the book club. All nice women, really, if a bit blood thirsty. You should hear them talk about those thrillers. Makes me wonder whether all of their family members and ex-husbands are really accounted for. But not one bit interested in the drug trade.” Glancing at Fine, she quirked an eyebrow. His slight grimace was all the answer she needed.

“Sorry Coop. There’s nothing to tell. All above board.”

“I don’t get it, guys. How does a 63-year-old librarian manage to run a drug ring without leaving any traces? We should have picked up something by now. This is weird, isn’t it?” Susan looked questioningly at Fine and Ford.

Fine sighed and started gathering the dishes. “I don’t know what to tell you. Usually, we would have some kind of lead by now.” For a moment he looked pensively at the dirty plates as if they held the answers to their questions. Snapping out of it, Fine looked at them inquiringly. “How about a glass of whiskey, Coop?” From the corner of her eye, Susan saw Ford open his mouth to say something. “I know you’ll have a beer, no worries, Rick.” Fine rolled his eyes as Ford gave him a content grin.

“I think I’ll also have a beer, if that’s all right with you.” Susan chuckled as she heard the grumbled ‘heathens’ as Fine made his way to the kitchen to deposit the dishes and pick up their drinks. “He still has no idea, has he?” Her voice was no more than a whisper as she addressed Ford, who was trying not to laugh.

“None whatsoever. Really, how long have you known each other? Fifteen years?” gasped Ford.

“Yup, that’s about right. It’s hilarious. He should have picked up on the fact that I don’t actually like beer and only ask for it to hear him complain.” Susan was shaking her head in fondness, while Ford just managed to rein in his guffaw so that Fine wouldn’t hear him.

“That’s Bradley for you. Sharp as a knife and picks up anything of notice on the job. But in private matters? He won’t see what’s right in front of him.” Ford glanced adoringly to the kitchen.

“God, the two of you are disgusting in your domesticated, fluffy, lovely relationship,” complained Susan without any real heat.

“There, there, Cooper,” Ford patted her hand in mock consolation. “You’ll be just as disgustingly domesticated soon enough. No reason to be jealous.” Which she wasn’t. Not really. Rather she had come to realize that they gave her hope that it was possible to form a stable and loving long-term relationship, no matter how difficult one’s personality might be. Though how those two had found together was still a mystery. Or how they made it work. Ford acted at times like a hyperactive, brainless golden retriever. And Fine, well, now that she thought of it, he also acted like a brainless golden retriever, only the high-class model. Which dog breed was the expensive on again, that always seemed more sophisticated than intelligent? Oh, yeah, a poodle. Fine definitely was the equivalent of a poodle.

“Who’s jealous of whom,” asked Fine as he set down bottles of beer before Susan and Ford and a glass of whiskey for himself.

“You know, according to your mission brief, Brendon Wright is supposed to be single. I quite distinctly recall the phrase ‘well-off bachelor’. Which means romantically unattached in case you didn’t know. And not as good as shacked up with a fellow professor.” Just for the fun of it, Susan pointed her beer bottle accusingly first at Fine, then at Ford.

“My dearest Coop, you need to pay more attention to detail.” Fine was somehow grinning at her while looking very prim and proper. “Wright _was_ a well-off bachelor when he started to work at the university. That doesn’t mean that he has to stay one for the rest of his life. A relationship status can change, you know. So did Wright’s when he met the love of his life at work one day.” Now he was smiling softly at Ford. And Ford? Ford raised his beer in salute and drawled, “Aw, I love you, too, Bradley,” destroying what might have become tender moment and startling laughs out of Susan and Fine.

After a short silence Ford leaned on the table and turned once more serious. “Since we don’t seem to make any headway at all in our investigation, let’s say we give it another week. If we don’t catch a break by Friday next week, we’ll inform Elaine. Let her decide whether to pull the plug or to continue this. Agreed?”

Smiling, Susan raised her beer in agreement. A wise idea. Clearly, one of Ford’s finer moments. If in doubt, report to your superior and let them make the decision.

***

The next day, Susan was sitting in her comfy sized classroom, unpacking her notes and books and just getting organized to be ready to start class in ten minutes time, all the while wishing she had drunk one or two beers less at Fine’s house. But no, her fucking ego had told her to match Ford drink for drink, much to Fine’s amusement. Now her body was telling her how very much not amused it was to be put through a bender at its age by making her suffer through a pounding headache in return. That little bitch.

“Professor Parker?” A student was looking at her inquiringly. Shit, shit, shit. To buy time, Susan hummed distractedly, while feigning to search for something in her bag. What was his name again? Always sits in the first row, shaggy hair dude. Ah, right. Anderson. “How was your date with Professor Wright? It was yesterday evening, wasn’t it?” Startled, Susan dropped her bag and stared at him incredulously for a moment before she guffawed. Wiping away a tear, Susan grinned at a now uncomfortably fidgeting Anderson.

“Well, well, Mr. Anderson. That was just the laugh I needed.” At a vicious stab from her headache, Susan sobered somewhat up. “But there are so many things wrong with those questions. First, it’s highly inappropriate to ask after my private life like that, which you surely know. Second, it’s none of your concern. Third, you got it wrong. It wasn’t a date. Fourth, I was invited to have dinner with Professor Wright and his partner. Fifth, stop gossiping about your teachers.”

While she had spoken, Anderson had gone through a number of facial expressions. From unsure and chastised to rueful then to shocked and finally settled on slightly pleased at the information Susan had not so accidentally let slip. Well, that just wouldn’t do, would it? She narrowed her eyes slightly.

“Mr. Anderson, continued gossiping will imply a profound understanding of our current topic, otherwise you would be busy studying your notes. As you may recall, we are currently discussing the period typical stereotypes of women in Charles Dickens ‘David Copperfield’. Of course, I’d like to be certain just how deep this understanding runs, so really, I would just have to have a pop quiz for the whole class, wouldn’t I?” At Anderson’s horrified look and the grumbling from the already present students, Susan smiled sweetly. “So, let’s sum up, shall we? Further gossiping equals pop quiz. Understood?” Several heads were bopping in agreement, and Anderson tried to sink into the floor, while she was looking sternly at the class and tried not to grin. Man, was she fond of him. The balls to ask a teacher that. Cheeky little bugger.

***

The next week had arrived way to soon, in Susan’s humble opinion. Her book club meeting on Monday had been as filled with blood and violence as always. Nothing new there. Tuesday had been spent refreshing her knowledge of Elizabeth Gaskell’s ‘North and South’ for her class on Wednesday. So, here she was again, sitting in her comfy classroom and preparing once again her material, when, with ten minutes to go until class started, Ford swooped into the room and promptly ruined her neatly ordered papers by dropping some unrecognizable wool heap onto her desk.

Susan was just about to open her mouth and rip him a new one, when she saw how nervous he looked.

“Parker, be a good sport and do something useful for once, why don’t you?” Ford clearly tried to drawl in his usual slightly menacing way. Instead, he sounded constipated and somewhat pleading. Or as pleading as he was ever going to be. Well, now Susan knew something was wrong.

“Hello to you, too, Wilson. How are you doing today?” That didn’t mean she had to be nice, right? She could make him work at least a little for her help.

“Yeah, yeah. Cut the crap. Look, I know you knit in your spare time. So–“

“Wow, hold your horses– what do you mean, I knit? What the hell gave you that idea?” Susan knew she was gaping at Ford, but what the fuck? She had never claimed to be able to knit. Her last attempt involving yarn had been at crocheting a tea cozy at high school. Suffice it to say it hadn’t looked anything like a tea cozy was supposed to look like. Crafting had never been her strong point. One had to just look at her monstrous soap dog.

“What do you mean, you don’t knit? You’re so…” Ford was staring at her incredulously.

“Gee, thanks Wilson. That’s very charming, really. And not in the least bit offensive.”

“Oh, don’t be all offended and stuff. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” At Ford’s put out expression, Susan finally cracked and snorted.

“You know, the sad thing is, I really do know that you didn’t mean to offend me. It just comes naturally to you, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah well, you’re either gifted like that or not.” He chose to ignore her muttered, ‘not what I meant’ and plowed ahead. “Take a look at that and tell me what you think.” He nodded at the green and white wool pile on her desk.

Feigning a long-suffering sigh, Susan stood up and held up the – thing. She had to admit, she was rather curious about what Ford had been knitting in his Tuesday meetings. Well, here was proof that she wasn’t the only person who should try to avoid a vocation in, well, probably anything which involved yarn. Feeling Ford’s gaze nearly burn a hole through her, she decided to be kind, something neither her teachers nor her mother had never been, and ran an admiring hand over some stitches. Smiling gently, she finally looked up at Ford.

“It’s quite lovely, Wilson. The green is a wonderful color choice. And–“ What were those white thingies supposed to be? Idly, she traced one of them when it hit her: snowflakes. Ambitious. Susan didn’t think that those were easy to do. That was probably why they looked like spiderwebs. “those snowflakes look amazing. I’m sure your gift will be cherished very much once it is finished.”

“You really think so?” Ford looked suddenly a lot less confident and pompous.

“Wilson, why would I lie about this? We don’t pull our punches, right?”

“That’s right, Parker and don’t you forget it.” And there was her Ford. Self-assured asshole with an ego lager than life. Welcome back. “It’s only natural that my scarf looks amazing. It’s made by me, after all. If you’ll ask nicely, maybe I’ll even knit one for you.” Oh fuck, that was supposed to be a scarf? It looked like a mangled blanket. Poor Fine. His skills at faking to love horrible gifts had better be top notch if he didn’t want to break Ford’s heart.

“That’s very sweet of you. But really, I wouldn’t want to take up more of the little spare time that you have. Better use it for the truly important things. By the way, don’t you have office hours right now?” Susan frowned. It was Wednesday, so he should have office hours from 11.00 am -1.00 pm. Ford only waved a hand dismissively.

“Please. Nobody ever comes to my office hours. It’s the perfect opportunity to finish my scarf undisturbed.”

“Really, Wilson? That’s not how office –“ Upon seeing Ford’s confused look, Susan sighed, “you know what, never mind. Shoo.” She waved her hands towards the door. “Off you go. Some students might find their way to your office after all.”

Nodding, Ford gathered up his monstrous scarf and as he left he muttered to himself, “Right, better finish up my scarf in my office, where it’s nice and quiet.”

Susan just shook her head, not bothering to correct him this time. Glancing at her incredulously staring students, she lifted a threatening finger.

“Not one word. Remember: gossiping equals pop quiz.” And hey presto, all eyes dropped to their desks and everyone was suddenly busy with something. Man, it felt good to be queen of this little classroom.

***

On Thursday, Susan was meeting Ford and Fine at a café near campus for lunch. While there were too many students, at least if you asked Susan, the food more than made up for it. Since she was a little early, she snagged one of the last available tables. Susan had just placed her drink order, when a very smug Ford sauntered in and sat down opposite her. Well, it seemed like his gift had been appreciated, after all. And going by the hickey his neck was sporting, the scarf hadn’t been the only thing that had been appreciated. Glancing to her left, Susan saw Anderson sitting at a table and staring openly at Ford’s neck. Catching his eye, Susan only needed to mouth ‘pop quiz’ and he suddenly developed a burning desire to intensively occupy himself with the menu. Satisfied, she gave Ford her full attention.

“Scaring students, Parker? Naughty, naughty,” teased Ford.

“Oh please. Like you’re one to talk. And do you know how crazy the rumor mill would be otherwise?”

Susan would never know what Ford was about to reply, because at that exact moment, gasps could be heard all around the café. Looking at the entrance, she immediately understood why the students were so shocked. At the same time, her heart plummeted. Because already students, among them Anderson, were taking pictures with their phones. And towards their table walked Fine, draped in the monstrous green scarf, rocking it like it was the latest runway fashion trend. Susan just about managed to resist the urge to bang her head against the table. Then Fine bussed Ford on the cheek in welcome and Ford dropped an arm around Fine’s shoulders and Susan lost all will to live. Because there was no way this wasn’t already making the rounds in the rumor mill. With pictures to proof it, damn it.

“I hate you.” So what if she had hissed it through gritted teeth like some snake? Her two colleagues stared at her, not realizing what they had just done. Because now Susan had to design a pop quiz in less than 24 hours for her next class. And grade it afterwards. Fuck.

***

Friday afternoon found the three of them sitting shell shocked in Susan’s office. After a horrible pop quiz, which the students had accepted with surprisingly good grace and a brief discussion of how they had come across no law breaking by their librarian, Ford had called their boss, Elaine.

“What the fuck,” whispered Ford, apparently unable to tear his gaze away from the cell phone and the conversation they had just finished.

“Did she just,” Susan trailed of, unsure how to finish the sentence. Fine rubbed the bridge of his nose for a moment.

“Okay, so there was mistake. A slightly bigger mistake than usual–“

“Bradley, love. That’s an understatement.” Ford slumped back in his chair. “We just spent six weeks playing professors and digging into a nice, perfectly law-abiding granny’s life. While on the other side of the country a head librarian moonlighted as a drug lord. All because somewhere along the way, a mix-up with the intel occurred and Western Washington University, which, by the way, is located in Bellingham, Washington State, turned into George Washington University, which is located in Washington, D.C. And, strangely, nobody knows how this mistake happened and why it wasn’t noticed until now.”

“Well, if you put it like that…” Fine grimaced and tugged nervously on his cuffs.

“Okay, somebody fucked up, we all agree. Let’s focus what that means for us short-term. The drug ring is still operating and as far as we know not under further investigation just now. So what will management do?” Susan looked at Fine since he had the most experience in dealing with them.

“Since we’re still undercover on the wrong side of the country and because time is of the essence, Elaine won’t be able to send us in.” Fine gazed apologetically at his partner. “We can’t just drop everything and vanish from here. The extraction protocol needs to be followed. Then we would need to study our new undercover identities. All in all, it would just take more time than can be accounted for to get us ready for this new mission. Not when there are other field agents who are just as qualified as we are.”

“I get it.” Susan sighed and looked forlornly at her desk. “I mean, the longer it takes to get someone inside, the longer it takes to get the drugs of the street and more people are going to become addicted and possibly die. And that’s horrible, really – “

“It’s just that you would have loved to bust another drug ring, right?” Ford patted her shoulder consolingly and Fine grinned commiserative.

“Exactly. Thank god it’s not just me. By the way, does either of you know what the extraction protocol is?” Susan wasn’t sure whether she was going to like the idea Elaine was going to pull out of thin air.

“Nope,” laughed Ford, not the least bit worried. “I don’t think they planned on having to extract us without us finishing the mission.” The next thing Susan knew, Ford had slung his arms around her and Fine and was pulling them closer together, as if he was about to impart a big secret. “But don’t worry, if they don’t come up with a solution within the next week, I have a plan we can execute.”

Well, fuck. The only slightly positive thing Susan could think of was that maybe she wouldn’t have to grade that stupid pop quiz after all. If she managed to put it off long enough, whoever was going to be her successor would have to deal with it. They were going to need all the luck in the world in trying to read her students handwriting. She was pretty sure that Anderson, that sneaky little fucker, had tried to write as close to waves as possible. Man, she was going to miss him.

**Author's Note:**

> Dear recipient,  
> I made up my own end credit mission, because I couldn't get the idea of the three of them as professors out of my head. I hope you still enjoyed this.  
> Happy Yuletide!


End file.
